


Folicular Experimentation

by Tzipporrah



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Haircuts, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Post-Season/Series 02 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tzipporrah/pseuds/Tzipporrah
Summary: Just a short and sweet ficlet I thought of, regarding hair care.





	1. Chapter 1

Back in their home dimension, the 5 members of the Rowdy 3 took advantage of the hot running water and laundry appliances at Amanda’s house. Thanks to the combined efforts of Farah’s brother and Bart’s enterprising partner Ken, the hunt for the Brotzmans and Farah had been called off. Ken had even arranged for Cross, Gripps, and Martin to get their things back, including the van. Freshly showered, Amanda had dressed in her favorite ripped jeans and softest band tee, pulling her hair into a sort of pony-hawk, and lining her eyes in heavy black. She came out of her bathroom and headed into the kitchen, where Martin was drinking from a purple coffee cup, finally wearing his glasses, after being locked up without them, then transported to Wendimoor. He looked much more tame in his typical leather and jeans, now, not so much the wild beast he appeared over the past few days. He looked up as she walked in, and made a low whistle.  
“I like your hair. Did you do that yourself?” he closed the space between them to inspect her shaven sides more closely.  
“Yeah, while Vogel and I were looking for Blackwing. Did I do ok? It was sort of hard to do on my own.”  
“Yeah, it looks really cool.” He winked. “If you want, I can touch it up for you when it starts to grow out.”  
“S-sure. Do you do yours?” his fingers had left tingling trails in the peach fuzz on her scalp, which threw her off.  
“Yeah, I cut what I can see, but I usually get Cross or Gripps to do the back for me.”

 

A week and a half later, Amanda’s shorter hair had started to stick out and weird angles, making it harder for the long hair to lay flat at the sides. It also felt like she had velcro on her head, which wasn’t particularly pleasant. The boys came by her house at least once a day, sometimes sleeping on the living room floor and couch. She found Martin in the garage, looking for tools to do something to the van.  
“Hey, Drummer, what can I do for you?”  
“When you’re not busy,” she said, a little nervously. “I’m ready for you to cut my hair for me.”  
“I’m not busy.” He drawled, setting aside the things he had been holding. “I’ll get my clippers, just meet me in the bathroom.”

Amanda snagged a couple of grocery bags from the kitchen on her way to the bathroom, then laid them in the sink and across the counter, to catch the shorn hairs. She looked up at the mirror when she was finished, and saw the reflection of Martin leaning in the doorway with a small black bag.  
“Do you mind if I take my shirt off?” Martin asked warily. “I normally do this, ahh, naked. To keep all the little hairs from getting stuck in my clothes. You’ll probably need to strip after, and jump in the shower to get them all off.”  
Amanda swallowed hard, and nodded. She tried not to stare as he peeled off his vest and began unbuttoning his shirt. As he folded them and set them in the hallway, she made the split second decision to yank her own t shirt over her head, leaving her in a bralette and leggings. Martins ears turned pink, but he didn’t say anything, just set about unpacking and assembling his clippers, and locating an outlet to plug the cord into. He patted the counter, indicating she should sit there. She grabbed a hair elastic out of a drawer, and started pulling the rest of her hair out of the way, then backed up to the counter and hopped up. Martins chest hair tickled her shoulder, as he leaned forward and ran his hand over the portion of hair he intended to cut first. Then something happened. When Amanda had cut her own hair, it had been a nice cooling sensation, but other than that, it had been no different that when she shaved her legs or washed her face. Just a utilitarian motion. When Martin set the clippers to her scalp, there was significant tingling. Not just on her head. It traveled down her neck, over her shoulders, down her spine, to her pelvis. She sighed with the delicious pleasure of it. Martin paused and stared at her, then cleared his throat and moved to her head to the side so he could do the next patch. His fingertips followed the clippers as he moved them. As he lifted the machine away from her skin and switched it off, he let the fingers of his left hand trail down her neck, and she sucked in a gasp. She tipped her head sideways as he kept the downward momentum, over her shoulder, down her arm, then reached for her waist. He seemed to be waiting for her to make the next move, so she hooked her fingers in his beard and pulled him toward her for a kiss. She opened her knees and settled his hips between them, scooting herself forward to meet him. He didn’t move his hands from her waist, only moving his fingers back and forth where they rested. Amanda ran her hand over his brawny chest, and he made a growly sound in his throat. She was considering kicking the door shut and locking her ankles around his waist, when he suddenly pulled away.  
“You should take that shower, now, Drummer.” He rumbled, running his thumb over her lower lip. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”  
And then he was gone, having shut the door behind him to give her privacy. There was a hollow, cold space in front of her, where previously had resided a very warm, delicious man. Amanda sighed and hopped off the counter, stripped herself of her boots and remaining clothes, then leaned over the side of the tub to grab the crystal knob. It shattered in her hand, leaving shards in her palm. She screamed in agony, gripping her wrist with her other hand, and in an instant, Martin was there beside her. He opened his mouth and blue light streaked between them, and her attack dissipated, her hand and the knob whole.  
“You okay now, Drummer?” Martin growled, breathing hard, his face and chest flushed from exertion and adrenaline.  
“Uh, yeah, I am.” She answered, “Sorry.”  
“No, boss, I’m sorry I left you alone.” He whispered. “I could have stopped it sooner.”  
He helped her stand, and they both became aware of her nudity at about the same time.  
“You wanna get in with me?” Amanda asked boldly, not making a move to cover herself. Martin nodded with a grunt, shut the door, and locked it.


	2. Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda tests to see if Martin likes his hair messed with, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to stay within the canon of the previous chapter, so rather than "drifting around Montana," they are encamped at Amanda's house, at least for the moment. But I added a reference to the Beast, because she's a total cutiepants.

Martin was reclined on Amanda’s couch, facing away from the hallway, and listening to some of her music collection. The boys and the rainbow girl were out in the back yard, supposed to be building something. A treehouse? A bonfire? With how hyper they were as they clamored out the door, there was no telling what the project would morph into by the end. Martin had elected to stay inside, not feeling the energy of the moment. Amanda had gone to her bedroom to get some old cds of the band she’d played in briefly, with her brother. He was pondering the ease with which she had accepted him and his chosen family into her life, not with complaint but with vigorous excitement. They were so lucky to have been sent to her. He had known all along, there was some important reason, but now that they knew she was like them, a chosen anomaly working for the universe…it was something he hadn’t anticipated, but he was so ridiculously proud of her. Lost in thought, he had completely missed her sneaking up behind him. The next thing he knew, slender fingers were tracing shapes in the stubble on the sides and back of his scalp. The warm trails of pleasant tingling left behind made him breathe out suddenly with a sound half sigh and half growl. She ran her hands slowly down the back of his neck, back up into his hair, then suddenly she gripped his mohawk and yanked his head back. Heat flooded to his abdomen instantly, and he opened his eyes and looked at her upside down face. She was a goddess, as usual. Confidently, she removed his glasses and kissed his mouth, the space between his lower lip and his beard, then tipped his face to one side with her tight grip in his hair, then opened her mouth and ran her tongue down his neck and over his Adams apple. He gulped hard, feeling it bob against her mouth. She sucked the skin at the base of his throat. The farther forward she moved the more her breasts pressed into his face. He moved to adjust his pants, but she made a sound that told him no. His breath came in heavy pants, and he arched his back with frustration, needing to get his hands on her.  
“Drummer-“ he pleaded, his voice rough.  
“Yes?” she asked against his ear, then she bit the lobe.  
He groaned and bucked his hips, reaching up to grab some part of her. She released him and pulled away, and the loss of her touch was physically painful. But she had moved around to the front of the couch, and stepped between his knees. He reached for her again, and she grabbed his hands in hers, forcing his arms to cross behind his head. He was going to hyperventilate until he passed out from lack of oxygen and blood to the brain, if she kept this up. She ran her hands over his chest, unsnapping his vest with hard yanks of her nimble fingers.  
“Do you like it when I pull your hair, Martin?” she asked in a breathy whisper that cut right through him.  
He grunted, thinking that was a sufficient answer, especially with how few words were available for him to use. It wasn’t.  
“Martin, I asked you a question.” Her knee came up to rub gently at his crotch, and he fought to put coherent sounds together to sufficiently respond to her.  
“Y-Yesss.” He growled. She yanked his head back again, crawling up to straddle his hips, and bit at his exposed throat. “Drummer, please!”  
She ground herself against his lap and he whined in answer. She sat up high suddenly, as voices got louder outside, and peered out the kitchen window through the doorway. “C’mon.” she jumped to her feet and grabbed his elbow, pulling him to his feet, then led him to her room. He followed as if floating on a nimbus of sexual energy. He had never expected to enjoy being dominated, but when it was by her…he knew he could trust her to do wonderful things to him, and he would do anything she asked, with a song in his heart.


End file.
